The Other Side of This
by CleosDeath
Summary: Everyone has their problems to deal with - most people just carry on regardless. That's what Theresa Jackson does anyway. Well, that's until something very strange turns up on her doorstep and ruins everything. Eric/OC !ON HIATUS!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Being the only normal person in a family of freaks had never been easy.

That fateful Friday night was no exception.

"For the last time Theresa, it is not a _birth defect_!"

"Well it's not exactly normal, is it?" I yelled right back. The plate and adorning food smashed into the nearest wall. I watched with the usual detachment as the mashed potato started to slowly peel back from the pretty flowery wallpaper. It suddenly flopped with a decided thud to the equally pretty carpet. It was amazing how clean the household surfaces were with the amount of food or drink that had been spilled on them in the past. My mother even managed to get those red wine stains out in a matter of minutes.

But that was the point, wasn't it? Them being generally freaky.

Mum sighed at the new mess my father had caused. One of my younger brothers gave me a pointed look. Another rolled his eyes before continuing to read the magazine in front of him. My father stood dramatically and glowered down at me. I didn't even flinch anymore. I knew he would never actually use violence against me, in my entire twenty four years on this planet he hadn't raised his fist to me one single time. He mostly just stormed off and began muttering to himself about this or that. Mainly about me.

And that was exactly what happened this time. My baby sister jumped as the door to my father's workroom slammed shut across the hall.

This was why I didn't usually eat at my parent's house.

"Rae, you gotta start being a bit more tactful." Josh said, flicking another page with some jazzy rock star sprawled across it over. Mum brushed his feet off the table while stepping over some crayons to the spewed up bangers and mash on the floor. Josh just plonked them back up there again as Mum started picking up the pieces of broken porcelain.

"It aint my fault he takes everything the wrong way." I grumbled. Adam scoffed.

"I should go do some homework." Molly quickly excused herself. If there was two things that twelve year old could do well, it was sensing when conversations were about to get uncomfortable, and getting out of there fast – even if that did mean doing math problems on a Friday night.

"Rae," Claire started up. She was giving me that look again. That ever so annoying 'I-know-you're-five-years-older-than-me-but-you're-still-an-idiot' look. I hated that look. She was always right when she got that look. "Have you ever once taken the time to imagine how Dad must feel? You're always taking snaps at him – and us, for that matter – and it's not even in a joking way. It's just plain mean."

"Yep." Josh nodded, still not taking the time to actually look at me.

"Solid argument, Sis." Adam agreed.

I just leered at them. Mum was trying not to be noticed as she dabbed her super secret recipe carpet cleaner on the fresh stain. I kicked the chair back and got to my feet.

"Whatever." I said quietly before walking quickly out of the room and to the front door. It opened before I could reach the handle. "Hey, Chris."

"Hey, Rea, watsup?"

I barely made out my brother's question from my position already halfway down the garden path. I just waved a dismissive hand over my shoulder in reply. That was the problem with growing up the oldest of eight kids in a family that lived in a four-bedroom house; you couldn't go anywhere without someone butting into your life. And it was me the others were apparently meant to look up to. I was supposed to be setting the bar for the rest of them. Well, I'd certainly set it low.

Not academically, of course. Academically I was above average, receiving a second from the University of Manchester only three years before. And careers-wise I'd managed to grab a fairly secure place in the advertising world with a half-decent salary for my age. But that wasn't the kind of bar they wanted to be raised. Oh no. What my parents had really hoped for me was that I would join them on their lovely freaky side.

Well, not me mister. This was definitely a no freak zone.

I sighed as I leant against the door of my car.

If only the rest of my family were the same.

I shook my head, tossing some of the light brown bangs out of my eyes. There was nothing I could do about them. I knew that. I just had to get on with my life as if I didn't come from a family of weirdoes. It was a challenge I was willing to accept.

I yanked open the door and climbed inside the battered old Ford. A car was something practical. As long as it still worked then I didn't see any point buying something overpriced and way too fancy. It got me from A to B. That was all I needed.

My cell rang just as I was putting the key in the ignition. I glanced at the screen, not recognising the number in the slightest.

"Theresa Jackson." I spoke down the receiver in my most professional voice. There was silence at the other end. "Hello?"

Still nothing. Either the person was deaf or just had a crap sense of humour. I was guessing the last one.

"Hello?" I said much louder just in case. No response. I pulled the cell away from my ear and flipped it shut in frustration. People these days had seriously too much time on their hands.

* * *

The other reason why I didn't visit my parents that often was simply the time it took to get there. I had left their Sussex country house around eight, and yet it was at least nine forty when I pulled into the basement car park where I had a spot reserved. I admit that some of that was due to Brighton Friday night traffic, but even on a day when the roads were clear it took a good hour.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I trod briskly over to the stairwell. Nobody felt completely safe in these dark isolated areas anymore. Ever since the vampires had come out of the coffin people tended to stay in groups or well-lit spaces at night. My brothers had told me it was different where they lived, that the countryside was somehow secure whereas the cities were simply permanent blood banks. It made no sense to me. Night was night wherever you were. I hadn't been worried before the vamps had surfaced and I wasn't worried now. If anything I was less likely to be attacked by a undead fiend now than I was back then. Vampires just didn't want to give the media anymore ammunition.

But still, a girl had a right to check the stairwell before marching on up.

I reached the third floor where my apartment was located and stepped into the brightly lit hallway. I could have heard the overpowering bass guitar echoing out of flat 304 from the floor below and I was positive the Jenkins would be shortly knocking on Paul's door complaining about the racket. But this was Friday night. People had a right to let loose and make some noise.

My feet were brought to a halt as I rounded the corner before my apartment.

There was something very different about my front door.

Mainly the huddled figure leaning against it on the ground.

The collar of their black bomber jacket was pulled up tight under their nose, the straggly dark hair keeping the rest of their face in shadow. I pondered what I should do. On the one hand this might just be some poor drunk sap that had collapsed outside my flat. On the other… Well, the other side wasn't nearly so pretty.

I was still debating when I accidently shifted my weight onto one of the many creaky floorboards in the building. The man heard and looked up.

I felt my eyes widen as I realised who it was.

"Rae?"

_Yeah short, but it's only an intro really. Reviews are nice, yes?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Jamie?" I breathed out unsteadily. The man gazed up at me from his place on my doorstep, a pathetic look on his face. "My God…"

I practically ran to where he was and knelt beside him. I reached out and cupped the side of his face. James winced.

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked, sounding angrier than I had meant to. But who wouldn't be angry in a situation like this? Not at James, of course, but at whoever had done this to him. His cheek was red and swollen, the skin around his eyes undeniably black and blue. His hair was not just tangled and greasy as I had previously thought, but was in fact caked with what I suspected was blood. All in all, he looked a mess.

"Not here." He whispered in a pitiable moan. I held back my furious curiosity and slowly nodded. Maybe the hallway outside my apartment was not the most ideal place for this conversation after all. I helped James to his feet; something that soon became obvious was needed. I dug into the front pocket of my grey handbag and pulled out my keys. James collapsed onto the couch as soon as we had stepped into the small living room come kitchen.

"Do you need anything? Any bandages or pain meds?" I asked while shutting the door behind me. I put my hands on my hips and looked at him sternly as he shook his head. "An ambulance perhaps?"

"No!"

I was taken aback by the force of that answer. He clearly didn't want anyone to know about this, which was all the more bizarre. If I had been beaten up or fallen down the stairs or anything like that I'd want a medical professional to know immediately. Hopefully that wouldn't happen though. I doubt I'd have done anything that would make me get beaten on in the first place. I wasn't that kind of girl. I walked over to the armchair opposite the couch but on second thoughts decided to stand.

"What the fuck happened to you, Jamie? I haven't seen or heard from you in nearly four weeks. No idea where you were or what you were doing. And then all of a sudden you pop up battered and bruised like someone's taken a cricket bat to you!" James looked decisively at the carpet and not at me. "And no way am I just going to leave this alone, buddy! If you don't tell me what's going on then I have every right to throw you back out into that corridor!"

"Get me a cuppa, would you?" was all he croaked out.

I could have screamed. I almost did. "James Burrow, you tell me who did this to you right this minute!"

"I hate having a girlfriend who knows her own mind…" he mumbled at the floor in a joking tone. It did not help my temper.

"Oh, you think I'm still your girlfriend, do you?"

He finally looked up at me, a hint of worry in those eyes. "Are you?"

I sighed and flopped down onto the comfy armchair in defeat. I was just too tired after my family gathering to remain angry at James. "I suppose that depends on your explanation, doesn't it?"

"I…" he seemed to be considering his response way too carefully for my liking. Hopefully he knew me well enough to know that I'd know if he was lying. And I wouldn't accept lies right now. He finally came to a conclusion in his head. "I've been selling drugs."

Well, that I was not expecting.

"You what?" My anger was back again. He winced at the level of my voice, anticipating my wrath. And rightly so, I might add. Of all the stupid, reckless things he had done- "What kind of drugs? A little weed now and then or a big ass load of crap?"

He didn't answer.

"Oh my God, James, what kind of drugs?"

He looked back to the floor again. My heart sank with every inch his eyelevel took. "V."

Shitting Nora.

I was quiet for a good ten seconds as I gathered my thoughts. Then I let them out. In one big loud rush. "You dumb, arrogant, thoughtless retard! What in God's name do you think you're playing at? V? V! You have got to be joking me! No way on the planet would I be dating a dealer of vampire blood! Only the criminally insane even dare to touch the stuff! I knew your mother dropped you as a baby, but I didn't know you were that fucked up! Someone's got to knock some sense in you! I bloody hope those bruises hurt! V! Where did you even get the stuff?"

"I… I had an arrangement."

I threw the cushion violently at his head. It struck and plopped down to the floor. I wished I'd thrown something harder. An arrangement could only mean one thing – sex was involved. "So you're a fangbanger now?"

"No!" he defended, staring me in the eye. "Not that kind of arrangement, I swear."

For all my fury, I could tell he wasn't lying. Well, at least that meant he was just a V dealing boyfriend and not a cheating V dealing boyfriend. I crossed my arms and glared. The thumping bass guitar ground to a halt and I knew the Jenkins had finally got fed up of listening to Paul's racket. I made sure my voice was slightly lower when I next spoke, so as not to draw any unwanted attention from prying neighbours.

"Did the vampires do that to your face then?"

I watched his Adam's apple bob nervously. "No."

My eyes narrowed further. "Then who?"

"My… buyers…"

"Christ." I threw my hands into the air in a show of my disbelief. "Who the hell have you been selling to?"

He gave my look that told me he wasn't willing to tell me that in case I did anything stupid. That let me know that these people were definitely not the casual druggies. I rubbed my forehead in frustration. "And why did they beat you up?"

He looked like he was debating how much to tell me again. To be honest had no idea how much I really wanted to know. If this involved gangs and vampire blood then it would be better to stay right out and not know anything. Ignorance is bliss they say. Especially when knowledge could mean someone murdering you in your sleep. I sighed mentally. Technically I already knew too much. I knew someone was selling vampire blood and I knew who. When it came to vampires, that was all that mattered.

"My buyers…" he began explaining, pausing while trying to come up with a suitable phrase, "…wanted some information. I don't know why, but they did. And I didn't have that kind of information and they're not the kind of people who appreciate being told anything in the negative. They… they still want the information. They only let me go 'cause I promised I'd get it for them. And right about now I have no idea where to start."

"What information?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Vampire information." I gave him a look to tell him that answer was not sufficient. "Something about a rogue vampire who killed one of their _acquaintances_. It sounds like they're looking for revenge."

"Against a vamp? How crazy are they exactly?"

He chuckled morosely. "Pretty crazy."

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Yep."

I actually smiled for the first time since coming home. Despite the knowledge that I should still be yelling and throwing things at his face, I just couldn't stay angry at James. A cliché yes, but a true one. There was just something so unbelievably pathetic in his manner. He knew this was all his fault, but at the time he just hadn't thought about it. Probably just thinking of making a little money on the side. Christ, that nice bracelet he bought me last month was probably from V money. I shook my head. There was no denying it; he was a class A fool. But he was my fool. And I couldn't chuck him for being something I'd known he was when I first met him eighteen months ago.

"Do you have anything that even resembles a sort of plan?" I asked, not getting my hopes up for a good answer. Sure enough, he just grimaced and looked at me guiltily. "Ok then, well, what information do you have about this vamp?"

"All I know is that two months ago my buyers' acquaintance turned up dead in a ditch with fang marks in his neck and no blood in his body."

"That's it?" I asked in surprise. Even if James was an idiot, I'd expected him to know a little more than that. What else could we base this whole thing on?

"Hey!" James started, a suddenly hopeful gleam to his eyes. "Do you think your family co-"

"No." I interrupted defiantly. No way was I getting more people involved with this, especially if it meant speaking to my family for the second time that night. James buried his battered face in his hands.

"You're going to help me, aren't you?" he let out timidly.

I shrugged. "Looks like it, buster. But my family are a no go zone, ok?"

"Then what can we do?" he moaned.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose in annoyance. I could only see one way to get anywhere in finding out anything about the mystery vampire, but I did not like the idea one tiny bit. As if I didn't have enough on my plate already. I glanced at James. As long as this went unsolved he was in danger, and I'm pretty sure his little friends would have no trouble in finding out about me and putting me in the same danger. Something had to be done.

"There's only one thing we can do."

***

_Review please? They make smiles._


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry, been a while, I know, but I haven't been in the writing mood. Hopefully things'll get back on track now though._

*******

**Chapter Three**

"Have I mentioned that I really don't like this idea?"

"At least eight times." I hissed at James. "Now shut it."

I already felt out of place in my tweed mini dress, black leggings and ankle boots that I had worn to the office today – I did not need a whining James making us stand out any more. At least my slightly-shorter-than-shoulder-length hair was being reasonably well behaved. The waves were still waves and not uncontrollable frizz-curls anyhow. That provided little comfort when I was standing next to a man who looked like an elephant had decided he was a comfy looking chair. We had managed to wash the blood out of his hair and get him changed into clean clothes, but there wasn't much we could do about the bruising on his face. I had even tried putting some concealer over the stains, but in the end had just settled for pulling his hair forward so that it covered most of his face in what I hoped people would think was just another trendy haircut.

The group of barely-legal girls in front of us moved forwards as they were let through the shiny blue door and into the building. I tugged my coat in the cold and smiled at the large man now staring down at us.

Only he wasn't a man in the usual sense of the word. He was vampire.

"ID?" he asked simply, his voice even gruffer than I'd expected it to be.

"Oh, sure." I mumbled cheerily, digging into my handbag and pulling my driver's license from one of the little compartments. I hadn't been asked for ID when going into a club for at least four years, but then again, I had never been to one of these clubs before. They were probably stricter than the usual places, just to make sure they didn't attract unwanted attention from the authorities. I held my license out to the man who took it without changing his expression. He nodded swiftly before handing it back to me. He then turned to James. I swear I saw his eyes narrow a fraction of an inch.

"ID?" he repeated. There was the slightest hint of suspicion in his voice now and I knew my haircut idea was fooling no one. James just passed over his ID in silence. The vamp inspected it a little more carefully than he had done mine. I bit my bottom lip in apprehension, hoping to all manner of gods that he put down James' appearance to a resent accident and not a murderous psycho gang of vampire-haters. But it was less than a second later when he passed the license back and stepped aside, letting us through to the door of BiteLife, one of the more famous vampire clubs in Brighton.

"Thanks." I told him kindly, dragging James by the arm towards the door. I was more than a little bit agitated by talking to the vampire and secretly wanted to just run away and hide. If that was what I got like talking to the bouncer, I couldn't wait to see what I'd become when we got inside the club and were surrounded by the things.

I opened the door and yanked James inside.

The first thing that hit me was the sheer noise of the place. The heavy bass line of the modern dance rock sent tremors through the floor, reaching out through my boots and legs and setting up shop at the base of my spine. On top of that the heavy chatter from the patrons meant it was nearly impossible to hear my own breathing. Having a conversation here would be pretty darn difficult.

I looked at James before nodding to the bar on the far right of the room. He understood and we started making our way through the clusters of people standing and sitting at tables that lined the room. I'd heard from a curious friend that it would be easy to tell who was who. The vampires would be dressed like any other club-going person, while the humans usually had that tacky 1980s horror film thing going on. But I was finding it a lot more difficult than that. As far as I could see there were no tacky horror movie stars in the club at all. Everyone looked like entirely normal members of the Brighton community. That either meant the whole room was full of vampires – a thought I tried my best to avoid – or this was a slightly classier place than where my friend had visited. In fact, I was struggling to find a single difference between this and my usual weekend hangouts. If anything, the décor here was slightly more upbeat and light. Maybe there was a reason why this was one of the most popular vamp clubs. Not any old fake could get in here.

I found a space at the bar and stood patiently until the lanky blonde barmaid wandered over.

"What can I get you?" she said in a clear voice. I was surprised that she didn't have to yell over the raging din to be heard.

"Gin and coke," I told her, "and lemonade for him."

I nodded at James. I was definitely not letting him drink tonight; it would be enough of a task getting him not to act like an idiot sober, let alone drunk. James was staring around the place, a little too warily for my liking. It just didn't look natural. I elbowed him in the side as the blonde placed our drinks on the countertop in front of us. I handed her a note and she had our change next to the drinks almost instantly.

I sipped at the glass and glanced around the room, trying to get a better feel of the place.

"What now, Sherlock?" James hissed into my ear. He obviously was not enjoying our night out. I sighed and turned back to the bar, indicating to the barmaid that there was something else. She finished serving another customer then walked back over.

"Yes?" she asked in a tone that made me realise she must think I was going to complain about the drinks.

"I'm actually looking for Gwen," I said, hoping that the random old-fashioned name I'd picked on the way here would turn out trumps, "if she's here tonight, that is?"

She raised an eyebrow at me and I tried to keep the lie from showing in my eyes. If there had ever been something I was outstanding at, it was lying. It was a shame I got stage fright in front of a crowd, otherwise I could have been an actress. After a few seconds the barmaid looked over to a nearby corner of the room and pointed at one of the tables there.

"There. She turned up about ten minutes ago."

I mentally thanked my lucky stars and looked to the table she was pointing at. There were only two people occupying it, despite the fact that it could have easily held at least three times that number. One was an attractive black man who I doubted was Gwen. The only thing I could see of the other was the startling red hair.

I nodded and thanked the barmaid before taking James' hand and snaking my way through the tables towards the redhead in the corner. James brought our journey to a sudden halt a few meters away from my quarry. He gave me an odd look.

"What are you doing?" he said as quietly as he could in my ear and still be heard.

"Scouting for information that apparently we can't ask your _supplier_ for." I replied just as quietly. His expression told me he was even more unhappy about this than he had been with the general idea of going to a vamp club. I patted his arm reassuringly. "Just leave the talking to me and we'll be fine."

"I bloody hope so." He murmured more to himself than me.

I stepped forward and around the table until I was standing between the redhead and the black man. Now that I could see her face I marvelled at it. The striking red clashed brilliantly with her pure white skin and was mirrored in her blood red lips. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and the perfect almond shape that I tried to replicate with my eyeliner. It was so striking I couldn't bring myself to call her beautiful, and yet it undoubtedly was. She stopped talking and turned to face me.

"Yes?" she said in a flowing European accent. I swallowed and brought my thoughts together. James fidgeted at my side.

"Gwen?" Her nod was just as elegant as her face. "I'm-"

She sighed and stirred the straw poking out from her bottle of TruBlood. She was obviously disappointed.

"Unless you've got something interesting to say, I really don't care."

I was taken aback slightly by her bluntness and just stood there for a moment, trying to think of anything to say. Gwen turned back to her drinking partner and started up a conversation in a language I thought might be French. James' hand slipped into mine and I felt him gently trying to urge me away from them. I shook my head. This had to be done. I pulled out the chair next to Gwen and sat. Her attention focused on me once more, surprise flickering in her dark eyes.

"I'm Theresa Jackson. Sorry to disturb you but I don't really know what else to do right now." I told her plainly. She seemed to mull this over for a second before glancing at the man opposite her. He swiftly stood and made his way towards the bar.

"What is it, Theresa Jackson, that you want, then?" Gwen asked me, her eyes glittering with curiosity. I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't think of the right words to say. Now that I was here it felt just so wrong to lie, to act out my part in the play I had constructed. I sighed.

"Look, I'm gonna tell you the truth," I started sincerely, "I just asked the barmaid for some random old-fashioned name cause I needed to speak to someone who knew this place, and obviously if the barmaid knows who you are then you do. It just happened to be your name that I chose."

Gwen took a sip of her drink, the fascinating crimson visible through the clear straw. "And why did you wish to speak to someone who was familiar with BiteLife, Theresa Jackson?"

"Call me Rae." The nickname was instinct and out of my mouth before I even knew it. "I just… I need to know about this place – who comes here, who runs it, etc – and don't really have anyone to ask. I'm just interested, that's all."

"You're mighty curious, Rae, for someone who's just _interested_. Not everyone would sum up the courage to ask an unknown vampire these questions, or perhaps you really are that dumb."

James' hand tightened on my shoulder. Even through my dress I could feel the slight shivers.

"Ok, I'm not interested," I gave up all pretences, "I'm desperate."

Gwen twiddled the straw again as she peered off thoughtfully. What did she think? To her did I seem like some form of giant retard just asking for a bite? Or did she get it? My misery.

"It seems to me," she started slowly, as if she was distracted by something else which was far more important, "that you need to speak to Henry."

"Who's Henry?" James piped up nervously.

Gwen focused her gaze upon me again and a smile crept across her face. I did not like that smile.

***

_Review?_


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